Eternal Temptation

❥ 17| new beginnings

ZAYAAN HAIDAR WAS LEANING against the side of my door.

And as much as I wished I was kidding, I wasn't. My husband was actually back from his supposedly very important work trip in Iran and was now here to apparently help me move.

"So, the only reason you're here is because your mum asked you to come and help me? And so you're essentially just like her puppet. Doing everything she demands of you," I taunted, bringing out another box from my bedroom into the living room.

He seemed amused. "Listening to my mother makes me a puppet, now does it? And what's so wrong with it, anyway? She's my mother, my family, the person who gave birth to me. What better things do I have to do than listen to her?"

I internally groaned at his words, bringing out another heavy, cardboard box full of my stuff out of my bedroom. All of my stuff had taken seven boxes to be packed into, and I was currently in the middle of carrying out my sixth box, trying to get a reaction and explanation out of my husband. But, of course, I received nothing apart from the strange feeling I got in my tummy at the sight of him, which I didn't know if liked or not, but it was still becoming very familiar around him all too soon.

"Is that the last box?" He asked, inspecting the fat boxes that I'd placed randomly on the ground.

"One more left." I paced back to my room, feeling sad that I was leaving my beautiful flat for a place that could look like a bin for all I knew. But I knew it obviously wouldn't; a girl could still have nightmares though. "Are you planning to carry all this on your own downstairs?"

He raised a brow, barely concealing his half-pity half-laughter at the sight of my sweaty, tired state. "I am, yes. Why? Are you offering to help?"

It was my turn to feel the pity. "Good luck, then. I've fulfilled my workout quota for today. I'd die if I went further; but I can hold the doors and stuff for you, though."

"How very gracious of you." He rolled his eyes, rolling up the sleeves of his long-sleeved shirt, revealing golden, veiny forearms, which immediately made me gulp. Calm down, Faithe. They're just forearms; beautiful forearms, but forearms nevertheless.

I watched him lift the first box with little effort and walked out of the door so fast that I had to run to keep up. "Slow down, slow down."

"If I slow down, we'll be here all day, taking down your boxes until the sun sets." He glanced at me, taking in my erratic breathing as I opened the glass doors of my flat block for him. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, watching as he placed the first of the boxes in the boot, leaving space for the rest. "Yeah."

After seven more trips, the final one to check that I'd left nothing behind and to take a final look at the place I'd barely lived in, I found myself in my husband's car, staring at the side of his face. More specifically, at the new purple-ish bruise, that I'd failed to notice before, right above his cheekbone. But obviously, it did absolutely nothing to deter his ethereal, annoyingly perfect beauty.